


Of Royalty

by FionasEmbrace



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Armor Kink, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionasEmbrace/pseuds/FionasEmbrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is captured by Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, who wants nothing more than brutal revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Royalty

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after only playing DA for a short time, so the characterization for Loghain is very simple. It's too bad there aren't many redeeming qualities. I did end up completing Dragon Age afterward. It was only then that I realized the characterization here is not really the right one, but it felt weird to go back and change it, so here it is anyway.

In Redcliffe, the last decisive battle between Alistair and Loghain Mac Tir continued with no clear victor in sight.The two were pitted against each other on that fateful day at the Landsmeet for the right to decide whether Ferelden should unite its forces, lead by the Grey Wardens, against the Archdemon. Alistair had personally volunteered to act on the Grey Wardens' behalf for this fight, both out of confidence in his fighting prowess but also out of a personal ambition to seek revenge on Loghain. If anything, he had his own personal grudges. If the duel ended in Loghain's death, he wanted to be the one to carry it out. He hated Loghain with every essence of his being; his undeniable pompousness and arrogance, and everything from hiring the Crows to wipe out the Grey Wardens, to carelessly allowing beloved King Cailan's death. 

Loghain fought strongly, however. It was not mere coincidence that he rose from the ranks to become a Teyrn. After an exhausting sword-fight that lasted for the greater part of an hour, the battle was decided.

And now, Alistair was captive and bound in the most remote depths of Loghain's dungeons, absolutely helpless. Loghain ordered his servants to leave him there so that he could be questioned, and possibly sentenced. Really, the possibilities of how to torment him were endless, but he wanted a guarantee that he would not be interrupted. A promising option would be to kill him by hanging, like a criminal. Or perhaps blind him, like that other Templar he heard of, roaming the Alienage. Or just leave him in the cell to contemplate his own hopelessly pitiful existence, the feebleness of the Grey Wardens' abilities against the Blight, and the failure of Duncan and Duncan's successor to lead them. Alistair had been a thorn in the Teyrn's side for a great while.

The cell door made a creaking sound as he opened it, and he saw Alistair, chained against a prison wall. His arms were tethered behind him in steel locks. He was fastened in a sitting position, his head hanging slightly low - he was possibly asleep, or dazed - because the chains were placed low on the wall. There was only a tiny bit of slack in the chains, perhaps less than a foot, since Grey Wardens were well trained in unarmed combat and Alistair ran a large risk of delivering a strong kick or uppercut, even when separated from his weapon. His fighting would be impaired, at the moment, by some minor injuries, courtesy of Loghain's men after depositing him in the cell. They were not serious, but he had some visible scratches and bruises.

The injuries could not have been very extensive, in fact, because he was still fully armed. Loghain explicitly asked his men to leave Alistair's armor on. He wanted the full satisfaction of dealing with the Grey Warden, as a legendary knight of prophesy, imbued with the hopes of all people - not a condemned criminal in a cell. So, Alistair's plates clinked nosily against the chains as he stirred awake. He had not been there for very long; from his dazedness, one would think it had been a lifetime; but in fact it was only a few hours since he was seized and captured. Loghain approached his prisoner and gazed at him indifferently.

"The Legendary Grey Warden, Alistair, has fallen into this state of affairs. How completely lamentable."

"Gh.. " Alistair's head lifted up and focused on his enemy. The world, once a swirling, blurry image, came into view and he recognized the prison around him, remembering how he came to be there. "You conniving bastard!"

"Always a chatty one, weren't you? I remember when you were always burdening Eamon Guerrein and Isolde with your idle talk. She could not wait to be rid of you. Soon, she will have her wish." The tyrant laughed. He walked down the cell toward Alistair.

"By the Maker, everyone will know about your treachery, Loghain. It might not be me, but someone will reveal how how you've been scheming for the throne all along, and how you failed to protect Ferelden against the Blight. Better yet, the Blight will be the end of you and yours, and all of Ferelden, that is unless you stop this madness! The Grey Wardens are trying to stop the Darkspawn, what about that don't you understand?"

Loghain sighed, in a patronizing and overly smug fashion, a pantomime of having heard it all before. "Oh Alistair, you are so ignorant in your ways. You should leave the decisions to those truly worthy of the throne. What a sad state of affairs; how would I come to listen to the bastard son of a serving maid." He crouched, and grabbed the Warden by the face. "Lest we forget, whose birth killed that aforementioned serving maid, and whose incompetence lead to the deaths of both Duncan and your promising new leader. Both now lay slaughtered. No, no need for excuses."

Alistair's eyes softened, full of hate. "Loghain, I want more than anything to inform you of the fate you deserve, and it's out of acknowledgement for the sin of wishing irreversible ill on others that I won't." He gritted his teeth. "And the knowledge that it won't do any good."

"You're damn right, it won't!" Loghain laughed. "My men have have already seized so many of the other rulers of Ferelden, the ones who stubbornly refused to acknowledge Our legitimacy to rule. " He gestured toward himself. "All that follows are the formalities." He stated matter-of-factly. "But now, as for what concerns yourself."

"Do what you will," Alistair acknowledged, bitterly. "Kill me, or leave me in prison, I don't expect any less from a traitor responsible for the deaths of so many." His voice fell to a quieter but still angry tone.

"Oh, think you've got it all figured out, do you? What if I told you - " at this point, he remained in the crouched position, but had grabbed Alistair by the upper shoulders, beside his collar armor - " that I wanted to really take this opportunity to teach you a painful lesson. That I would take the opportunity, to *know* you... If you understand to what I am referring." His intentions were out of malice, even; not out of lust at all.

"What the..." Alistair paled.

"Oh, don't act like the situation isn't familiar to you. After all, isn't it the story of your own upbringing - the chance of an upright, legitimate and honored ruler to come upon a worthless nobody, surely that must sound awfully familiar. You know the circumstances of your birth. Well I suppose, in all probability, the encounter between your mother and father was a rather more amorous one. But regardless, I thought it would be a particularly enlightening way to *remind* you of who I am, and who you are." The monarch had grabbed Alistair's short hair roughly while informing him of all this, and now let it go with an uncomfortable force.

Alistair was still reeling. He had expected some manner of beatings, or perhaps tortures, but this? Why would Loghain do this? What was he planning to gain? He was disgusted with the thought, he never preferred males in that respect. Not that the Templar upbringing had afforded him any experience with women either, but he certainly had vague plans for it, perhaps someday, after the war against the Blight was all over. He knew there were those that preferred relations with the same gender - Zevran in particular came to mind. That was their business, he had no interest in it personally. It was not very common in the social circles in which he was raised. But more specifically, he wanted no part in whatever unspoken horror the tyrant was intending.

"You.. You're sick. You can't be serious."

"More serious than you think, undeserving wretch." And in one quick motion, he unfastened the piece of armor protecting Alistair's nether regions, and loostened those around it, revealing his trousers underneath. He placed a rough, violent hand on Alistair, with his thumb somewhat over the clothes covering his crotch and the rest of his fingers grasping his behind. Alistair's trousers were of a fairly decent weight, but not enough to subdue Loghain's touch. He grimaced, and jerked his entire body against the chains. His armor made some clanging sounds against their links and against the wall against which he was fastened. He moved as much as he could against the bounds, mostly with his shoulders, although it was no use.

The armed Templar grew even more enraged, if that were possible. "You twisted son of swine, I'll..." And in one sudden motion, Alistair draw his head back; with a spectacular amount of force, brought about from years of training as a knight, he slammed it forward in a powerful headbutt. It happened so quickly; Loghain did not forsee the blow. It struck Loghain squarely across the forehead and threw him back several feet, having fallen on his back. 

The tyrant grimaced and while clamouring back to his feet he spat a wad of blood on the ground beside him. "Worthless bastard, I'll teach you a little about how authority works for those with the *royal* right." He drew back a steady hand and punched Alistair across the face. It was easy to execute, and impossible for its victim to dodge given his bound form to the wall. The blow was not enough to break any bones, but surely enough to prove a powerful reminder of the struggle the day after, provided the Templar even survived that long.

Alistair winced from the impact, and a bit of blood peered out of the corner of his mouth. Loghain, in a perverse act of impulse and mockery, licked it off his face. His tongue left a wet, uncomfortable trail. Alistair's facial expression was a lock of sheer, incredulous horror, as the reality of the situation was starting to dawn on him. His rage and hate for the other was unlike any he ever experienced in his whole life.

"Oh, now try not to enjoy this too much, to be so fortunate to know my touch." Loghain's insults continued as he unfastened Alistair's leather belt and trousers, unbuttoning the front, and lowering them enough to expose his pelvic area completely to the cold air of the prison. The trousers bunched around the armor but the older man had loostened the thigh guards enough to shift them slightly downward, allowing for Alistair to be awkwardly exposed. Loghain continued to touch Alistair perversely, snaking a hand down one leg of his trousers, beneath the armor, to touch further along his thigh as well. Alistair paled more, if that were possible, gritted his teeth slightly and hoped for it to be over soon. The hate in his eyes was simply insurmountable. If the chains restraining him were to disappear this very second, his hands would be instantly around Loghain's neck, to hell with his normally compassionate nature.

But, no such thing would happen. Loghain decided to torment Alistair a little and licked his own palm, in yet another perverse and foreign action to the Templar, and started to lightly touch and stroke Alistair's member. At this point Loghain was crouched against the prisoner, in a strangely intimate fashion, with his face leaned in as if to whisper something in Alistair's ear, their bodies nearly flush. In fact, given that Loghain was still wearing his armor as well, they were as close as physically possible. The armor blocked much direct contact between the two, except for Loghain's face close to Alistair's, and the touch of his hand on Alistair's cock. He had removed his right glove for this exertion. Alistair flustered panickedly at the foreign feelings, having never been touched by another at all in this fashion, much less his arch-enemy. He felt a concentration of blood to his most private of areas, and feelings of guilt and shame from feeling any sort of enjoyment from the ministrations, if even a little. Reflexively he struggled more, but the metal bonds held him firmly down, in Loghain's safety. Loghain smirked, knowing that Alistair could not really physically defy him, no matter how he willed. Alistair's erection grew a little more as his perverse touching went on, his eyes still lost in hate and disgust.

Then, in possibly a turn for the worse, Loghain seemed to lose interest in that and remove his hand. Alistair was relieved to have Loghain leave him alone for even a brief moment, but physically still experiencing lust in his heart and the desire to continue to be touched, as well as fear for what was to come next. Loghain was determined to answer that question for him, as he quickly grabbed the Templar's right leg from behind the knee. It became apparent what was next.

"What in the Maker's name are you doing!!! Loghain, I'll have you hanged, drawn and quartered, there is no bloody forgiveness for this, do you understand me?! Whatever it takes, you- F-Aaagh!"

He struggled, but it was no use and Loghain pinned him down. He lifted Alistair's leg and positioned it over and around his left shoulder, arranging himself more closely on top of Alistair; before they were approximately face to face. To lift his armored leg was a little bit of a feat of strength, but fortunately Loghain had also seen his fair share of army life and training in the physical exertions. Alistair struggled against the awkwardness of the position; Loghain held him there with the help of the chains and Alistair's slightly weakened state. He could easily dominate the Templar in this position, and would gain utmost satisfaction from seeing the other man's face if he so chose. Loghain kept his left arm around Alistair's leg, holding it in place, with his right hand free. He snaked his hand to grab Alistair's erection roughly again, stroking it once more, and then moved his wet fingers to his entrance. Alistair paled, at a loss for words. He had some faint idea what was happening, people in the schoolyard talk, he could fathom what that lowlife was about to do, but blanched at the realization of it. He could not formulate words to articulate his utter hate and contempt for Loghain, particularly knowing that nothing he could say would stop him.

Loghain slipped an index finger inside Alistair, uncomfortably, and darted the finger in and out. At first there was some resistance, obviously Alistair was not used to this treatment, but the natural physical reaction to loosen the muscles there overtook him and soon Loghain was able to slide one finger, and then two, in and out without much difficulty. The Templar felt like he was being readied for penetration, ready to be used like some harlot; although the tyrant had not even directly penetrated him yet. He slid his fingers in and out several more times, savouring Alistair's weakness and utter vulnerability. Alistair's mind wandered, he was still half-erect, wondering if this was any comparison to when Loghain would actually take him. Of course, the way things were going he would find out soon enough. His aroused state was strangely maintained through all this by Loghain touching a certain spot deep inside of him, as well as a thumb that was caressing his balls somewhat. For one who had not yet had sex, the whole experience was incredibly dirty and perverse, to the point of seeming unreal.

Finally, Loghain had had enough, and felt that now the time was appropriate. From seeing Alistair so tormented and at war with himself. the monarch had also grown an aching hardness in his trousers and anticipation for fully taking the other. He longed to be inside Alistair, stretching him, seeing him pained and disgusted by his penetration, feeling the hot tightness around him, and taking the place of his fingers. He withdrew them and unbuckled his belt.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Alistair could not help but remark when he recognized what this meant. 

"I must commend your choice of words," Loghain responded. He unfastened a second belt, "Even a templar like you are, you know what we're about to do." He smirked very subtly; he was referring to the templars' strict rules about relationships and rejection of any sexual intimacy. Truly, it was rare for someone Alistair's age to be without sexual experience. He was a grown man, but so far removed from the world. With Alistair's leg still over Loghain's shoulder, it was easy for Loghain to position himself further forward and place the tip of his erection against Alistair's wet and prepared entrance. He used his free hand to line it up properly, and nudge the opening, in a bit of a circular motion, to ensure an easier penetration. Alistair instinctively struggled again at this point, if only to convince himself there was no way he could take any kind of enjoyment from the sexual mistreatment. The struggling only excited Loghain more as it rubbed the opening against the tip of his erect penis. He moved his hand to hold down Alistair's chest and grinded his hips against Alistair, with the possibility that his member might slip in on its own accord from the friction. The poking motion was, to him, also a kind of foreplay. It felt good nudging against the readied opening, and created a caressing feeling against his member. As much as he enjoyed it, his intention was to actually initiate sex, so Loghain thrust a little bit harder with his hips. But it missed again in part due to Alistair's struggling and also the physical difficulty of penetration with that method alone. He wanted to try it without the guidance of his hand, if only to see if it would work. From his past experiences in sex, usually it did not, unfortunately, no matter how hard he was. Well, so much for that.

In a brutish motion he used the guidance of his hand together with the thrust of his body to push himself inside Alistair most of the way. Alistair paled and gave forth a blood-curdling shriek; he could not help it. A couple servants doing the mopping in the upper floors heard the scream, but were used to such spectacles in the dungeon and continued in their work. Loghain took immense pleasure at the echoed noise, signifying his domination over the templar. Of course, Alistair had been fully trained and raised on the battlefield, and was used to any number of wartime injuries, and the bodily pain of his current ordeal was less than any of them. Still, he could not put aside his utter disgust from this complete sexual violation by his worst enemy. The pain, although foreign, was tolerable. The humiliation at being taken and used by Loghain was another matter. And, through it all, he was still somehow partially aroused. Loghain at this time started to thrust in and out of Alistair, fully enjoying the experience for himself. He had forgot how much he loved the pleasures of sex, it has been so many long years, and now he enjoyed the feelings of Alistair's insides to the fullest.

Loghain noticed the Templar's still-present arousal and now used his free hand to touch and stroke him, "See, I knew you couldn't resist my touch. Who knows how long you've been wanting this... Y-you could have just asked, m-my flower." He had a sarcastic, insulting tone, which became staggered by his shortness of breath, quickly losing control from the magnificent sight in front of him. Alistair, was in chains and utterly vulnerable, one leg around Loghain's shoulder and facing him and allowing for easy penetration, ashamed by his erect, twitching and weeping member jutting out between them. Loghain salivated a little and wiped it away with his hand. Alistair, in a rejuvenated moment of defiance, spat bitterly in Loghain's face, physically unable to accomplish any more with his leg still around the other's shoulder and with the other's hard member thrust roughly and violently inside of him, and also distracted by his aching erection. Loghain used his free hand, and although it had limited momentum with their bodies on top of one another, separated them just enough to use a respectable amount of force and backhand him squarely across the face. The slap, stinging on Alistair's face, served to remind him of Loghain's control. This further subdued Alistair as the perverse thrusting continued. It went on, Loghain continuing in and out; he had a surprising amount of stamina for his years.

And even still, Alistair could not hide his own erection, especially in that position. Loghain was still grasping at him and stroking at him while the rape continued. He flustered at his feelings, desperately wishing he could hide the raw physical desire that Loghain was provoking, but there was no way. His erect penis jutted out awkwardly between them during the sex, shaking with the rest of his body during each thrust, trembling at a want of touch. Loghain compassionately granted the Templar this physical sensation by taking and stroking his hard sex in time, enjoying Alistair's disgust and vulnerability. 

Finally, Loghain was nearing the end, having difficulty containing himself for much longer. He began to thrust more quickly; now his member slid in and out of Alistair much more easily, with the other's body having grown much more used to the treatment in time. He stroked Alistair more quickly as well. And the Templar, trying as he might, desperately endeavored to calm his thoughts, to focus on something else, and to ignore the feelings of raw physical desire that were overtaking him, but it was no use. The sensations of Loghain's hand stroking his sex along with the hard, throbbing cock deep inside of him were somehow evoking his desire like nothing else. Having never been touched by another, this or any type of sexual intimacy would take him over the edge with ease. With the increase in speed, he finally felt his impending climax, more intense than any he had ever felt. He started shaking and his penis twitched. Loghain recognized this anxiously, and thrust inside him to the hilt, bringing their bodies a bit of a ways apart, so that he could watch Alistair come. The Templar's body shook violently, and warm seed ejaculated from his member. Because of the placement of their bodies, the seed splattered between them, mostly on Alistair's chest plate, with some droplets on his face, and with some on Loghain to his slight annoyance. Loghain was overcome at the sight of Alistair, shackled and helpless, tightening and spasming against his own member, physically surrendering himself. He finally climaxed as well, emptying his seed deep into Alistair, with a small trail leaking onto the ground beneath them. 

This violent experience had, in fact, been Alistair's first time. Templars did have limited exposure to women or opportunities for sex. Loghain marveled, "I never thought it would be me that deflowers you. Hopefully it was just as enjoyable for yourself." He licked Alistair's ear in a disgusting imitation of a kiss. He paused, then kissed him forcefully and coldly on the neck, and then full on the mouth, grabbing Alistair's hair. Interestingly, Loghain had not bothered to kiss him until this point. He fully withdrew his penis from Alistair, and a little more of the semen slid out, although some still remained inside. Loghain, in a slightly painful move for the other, removed Alistair's leg from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground. In a somewhat more courteous move, he inexplicably pulled Alistair's pants back up somewhat and fastened some of the buttons, given that their owner could not do it himself. Alistair's belt was still undone. 

Loghain uninterestedly stood up and fixed up his appearance, brushing some of the semen off of him. He had buttoned his fly already, now he re-fastened his belt and straightened up his armor plates. Then he stepped back toward Alistair and grabbed the other's chin.

"You're welcome."

He walked away, and out of the dungeon, leaving Alistair to recover from his injuries. He would decide the other man's true fate sometime soon. In the corridors below, talk of the oncoming Blight was starting again, and how the Ferelden forces would come to combat it. Who would truly be the next king; what would take the place of the Grey Wardens? Was a rebellion in sight? Loghain considered these outcomes as he looked out a nearby window. Signs of the Blight seemed visible, and outside the night wind pealed ominously.


End file.
